I started my collage collection some four years ago for no other reason than it gave me something to do. The first victims of my stainless steel fury were old Anthroplogie catalogs, hand-me-down National Geographic magazines, and whatever other object filled zines that might or might not have been sent to the previous tenant.
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Some of the scraps I freed from the page are marked by true affection, while others are merely half-hearted efforts to be less wasteful. When I first began, some of those chosen scraps were carefully arranged on a 2x3 foot cardboard sheet and then glued; now a vibrant and complex visual symposium of the many components of myself. That piece of work will probably never be shared here. It's large and confusing and frankly a little worse for wear. But maybe one day when I'm gray, I'll take it out and explain away the mystery to those dear ones huddled near.
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But these days, every third Blue Knock Sunday, I'll rummage through my stuffed closet and pull out my collection of paper scraps to fiddle with. Only this time around there is no gluing and the subject is rarely anything related to me.
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